


I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

by goldenlightsup



Series: One-Shots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crush, Cute, Dare, Fluff, Fun, Highschool AU, I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship, Party, Shy, Truth or Dare, it's not cliche though, mutual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenlightsup/pseuds/goldenlightsup
Summary: In which Harry would've never told Louis how he felt if it wasn't for a stupid game of Truth or Dare.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025332
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Harry is dying, he really is. His palms are sweaty and clammy, his muscles are tense, his eyes are glazed, and heat is creeping up his neck and chest. What is breathing? What is air? Harry doesn't know. The last thing he remembers is walking a few paces before collapsing in a heap to the ground. 

An angel is hovering over him, he realizes, a beautiful, beautiful being with tan skin and chestnut hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. His halo glows atop his head, bright and burning, and Harry thinks, no, he knows, he has reached the afterlife. School finally did him in. It's about time.

And then his eyes regain focus, and he spots an outstretched hand, one that he'd be more than willing to grasp if it weren't for the embarrassing scenario. He wasn't in heaven; he was in his English class. The glowing thing wasn't a halo; it was one of the many fluorescent lights illuminating the space. And the being hovering over Harry, offering him a hand wasn't an angel, though the curly lad might argue he was; it was Louis.

"You alright, Hazza?" The blue-eyed boy laughs, and Harry was too dazed to be flustered by the nickname that Louis'd been calling him for years but that he still wasn't used to. Surprisingly enough, there was no lilt of amusement to his tone, only concern. "Hit your head pretty hard there."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry answers, rubbing the back of his skull. "Just embarrassed." He'd experienced jitters before, but this was an entirely different level of stage fright. Not only did he faint in front of the entire class, but in front of Louis, his gorgeous, aggravatingly oblivious best friend. Harry feels his cheeks grow hot. 

"Hey," Louis soothes, rubbing his thumb across the back of his friend's hand. God, Harry thinks. If this is how you're trying to calm me down, it's really not working. "If you don't want to present right now, I'll go."

"No, no, it's fine," the green-eyed boy assures. "I'll have to go at some point. Might as well get it over with."

Louis nods, pats Harry on the shoulder, and returns to his seat. Harry springs to his feet, a rush of dizziness briefly throwing him off balance, before turning to face his teacher and whispering a meek, "Sorry, Miss Gregor."

"It's quite alright, dear," the bespeckled woman says. "I'm just glad you're okay." She analyzes her student with tired, worried eyes. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

Harry nods. He meant what he told Louis. Sooner or later, he'll have to give his presentation. Better to do it now and get it over with than wait and humiliate himself in front of his pupils (and Louis) once again. 

"I'll be okay," says the boy, bringing his lanky body to the front of the classroom. Harry feels everyone's eyes scorching his skin. He's tingly all over and knows he can't bear to make eye contact with the crowd, something he hopes his teacher won't dock points from his overall grade for. With one last deep, shaky breath, he clears his throat and says, "The literary trope I've chosen to talk about is friends-to-lovers."

* * *

Niall and Zayn catch up with Harry after school. He can feel a smile forming on his face as the blond, Irish boy and his raven-haired companion race up to him, their strides broadening to reach their friend.

"Harry, guess what, mate?" Niall practically squeals, his breathing heavy. Harry only just begins to think of a reason why his friends might be so excited when he continues, "Amelia said she's coming to my party tonight! Now you have to go. I need a wingman!"

"Why can't Zayn be your wingman?" Harry asks, a somber tone infiltrating his words. He's happy for Niall, really, but he's sick of watching everything come to him so easily. Niall is outgoing, can ace a test without studying, and now, he has the most popular girl at school on his birthday bash's guest list. Why doesn't anything fall in his lap? He's never, not once gotten an A unless he studied his ass off for it, could barely hold a conversation with new people without crying, and, most horribly of all, could not for the life of him work up the courage to tell Louis how he felt. Grant it, Niall's liking towards Amelia was obviously mutual, whereas Harry was sure Louis wasn't into guys that way, but still. He has the worst luck in the world, probably because Niall stole all of his. 

"Because," Niall whines as the three boys walk to Zayn's car. Harry races in front of Niall and claimes the passenger's side, earning him a middle finger and a scoff, which only makes Harry grin. "Zayn wouldn't know how. You're the hopeless romantic of the group. Please? You have to."

"Fine," Harry relents. "I'll go."

"Yes!" Niall cheers. Harry feels his heart grow lighter at the noise. He loves that he made his friend happy, even if it will be at the expense of his well-being. Because, well, his social battery is almost dead, and he doesn't think he has it in him to go to a party, to mingle and talk to people that aren't Zayn and Niall. But it's too late to back out now. He already committed, and when Harry makes a promise, the last thing he does is break it.

"You're a push-over," Zay comments as he turns into Niall's neighborhood. 

"Am not!" Harry protests. "Just nice."

"Sure, whatever you say. Remember this conversation when Niall makes you plan and pay for his and Amelia's wedding."

"You really think we'll get married?" Niall pipes in. "God, that'd be sick."

Zayn gives an amused shake of his head, shoots Harry a look that says, "what are we going to do with him," and returns his gaze to the road.

For the rest of the drive, Harry's mind wanders back to that morning. He's still mad at himself over it. Louis Tomlinson, the boy he'd been secretly eyeing for ages, saw him faint because he was too scared to give a dumb presentation on literary tropes. If he had even a small chance of dating him, it's long gone now. Not that it would have happened anyway. Not even Niall and Zayn knew of his crush, and, for as long as he can, he's going to keep it that way.

* * *

Party-goers start trickling in around eight. Harry's head whips in the front door's direction every time it opens, but the guest is never Louis. 

At nine 'o clock, he gets roped into playing a game of beer pong. The alcohol loosens him up enough to engage in casual conversation, which makes the event slightly more enjoyable. He still checks the entryway every so often—still no Louis.

At around ten-thirty, once everyone is buzzed or wasted or somewhere in between, Niall brings out the cake, and everyone sings him Happy Birthday. It's entirely off-key and rather horrible sounding (apart from Harry's contribution to the song, which, admittedly, is quite lovely), but Niall beams like the queen herself is knighting him. And once the slices have been distributed, Niall stands on a chair and smashes his cake in his face because it's Niall, and of course he does.

Harry gives up trying to find Louis at midnight. He gives up socializing too. His head is pounding in his skull so insistently, he's sure it will split in half, and the boisterous crowd isn't doing much to help. After telling Niall what he's doing, he runs upstairs to the guest room, grabs the book from his sleepover bag, and nurses his headache with a cool glass of water and the wonderful words of Stephen Chbosky.

He doesn't know how long he's up there by himself, only that, when Niall, Zayn, and Liam, Harry's fourth and final friend (he's surprised he has any at all, given his reserved nature), come upstairs, he is almost halfway through "The Perks of Being a Wallflower." Niall flashes him a guilty smile and sits cross-legged beside him. The others follow suit, the four boys forming a circle on the carpet.

"Sorry for making you come today, Har. I won't force you again."

Harry returns the blonde's smile and shakes his head. "It's alright. I had fun, just needed a break." He turns to Liam, who is seated beside him, and nudges his shoulder. "Hey. I haven't seen you all day. How're you?"

"Great," Liam says. His lips curve downward. "Hey, Louis told me about what happened with your presentation. You okay?"

Harry can feel the blush creep onto his cheeks. "He did?" He asks, unable to stop panic from taking over his voice.

"Yeah, but it wasn't malicious or anything. I think he was just really scared. He said something about thinking something bad happened to you. Even started tearing up a bit." Liam laughs lightly. "It was kind of sweet."

Harry's heart soars at the statement, which is stupid, really. Everyone probably thought the worst when he fainted. Louis didn't show any more concern than the rest of his classmates. 

Except...no. He can't get his hopes up. There is no way that the little one with his defined cheekbones and flawless skin and gorgeous smile knows the boy with curly hair and a tall, awkward body was hopelessly in love with him, and an even smaller chance that he feels the same way. 

"Let's play a game," Niall says. "Truth or Dare?"

Liam and Zayn agree, leaving Harry no choice but to play the same, though he's rather reluctant to do so. Still, it's Niall's birthday, and no matter how anxious this game makes him, it's just his friends, the three people he feels the most comfortable around (Louis doesn't count, since the very thought of him sends a swarm of ruthless butterflies straight to his stomach). He can play a few rounds.

"Li, truth or dare?" Zayn asks and, when the tall, muscular boy answers dare, grins. "Hmm, I dare you to run down the cul-de-sac in your boxers while Ni films you."

Liam groans. "I'm going to fall over. 'M still tipsy."

But, like any good sport, Liam goes through with the dare, sending Harry and his friends into a fit of hysterics as they watch him race down the street, stumbling more than once and letting out high-pitched battle cries. The group still hasn't calmed down by the time they return to their positions on the guest bedroom floor.

"Oh, man, that was classic," Niall says through his laughter. "Just wait for your birthday, man. That'll be on my story with some sappy message about how you always make me smile or some shit."

"If you do that, I'll kill you, Leprechaun," Liam threatens, though he can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips afterward. 

The game continues. Harry learns that Amelia and Niall ended up kissing in his backyard, a fact his Irish friend was obviously waiting for someone to ask him about. Zayn calls a McDonald's in Texas and asks them if their Big Macs are called Bigger Macs, a reference to the "everything is bigger in Texas" mantra that Harry is certain the tired employee on the phone doesn't understand. Thirty minutes later, the game is still going, and the topic has switched to crushes.

"You really like Gigi?" Liam asks Zayn. The artist nods shyly. "That explains so much! I knew there was a reason you didn't want to do the science project with me."

"Well, that, and you're ass at science," Zayn counters, causing Liam to (lightly) smack Zayn's shoulder.

"I'd never be able to ask my crush to be my lab partner," Harry says off-handedly, his thoughts clouded by his tired daze. "Wouldn't have the balls."

He knows he messed up when three pairs of incredulous eyes turn to stare at him. 

"I don't believe my ears. Does Mr. Harry Styles have a crush?" Niall gasps. "Mate, I didn't know you were capable. I've never heard you talk about any of the girls in our grade."

There's a reason for that, Harry thinks, but he knows he'd never say it aloud. 

"Is it Taylor?" Zayn asks. Harry shakes his head.

"What about Kendall? Caroline?" Liam guesses. "Ooh, I bet it's Camille. I heard her saying you were cute once. You should ask her out."

"It's not Camille!" Harry says a bit defensively. He'd never like someone so shallow, though he was grateful his friends' guesses were so off. 

"Who is it then?" Niall asks. Harry's gaze finds the floor. He doesn't know how to respond. It isn't that he's embarrassed of his crush. In fact, he has been trying to come up with a way to come out to his friends for months now with little success. Maybe now is a good time. It doesn't have to be a big deal, just a casual comment during a casual game of Truth or Dare. Easy. Done. Over with. 

Before he can speak, though, Liam butts in. "Well, whoever it is, Har, it's your turn, and I dare you to call her and tell her how you feel."

Harry freezes, his eyes wide and breath hitched because oh. Um. That's a different ballpark entirely. The green-eyed boy knows Liam wouldn't have dared him to do that if he knew the truth, but he doesn't, and it's not like Harry can say, "Sorry, I can't because my crush is Louis and if I do, he'll probably act weird around me for the rest of my life, and our friendship will be ruined." I mean, he could, except he can't seem to get the words to form on his lips. 

And then, he must be going crazy, he finds himself scrolling to find Louis's contact. Maybe it's because of the alcohol still in his system, or maybe Harry's fed up with pretending he wants to be just friends with the boy, but he's seemed to have lost all reason. Which, given the situation, isn't good, but Harry doesn't realize that until his finger is hovering over Louis's name.

It's only when Niall spots the contact Harry's about to press that the singer realizes what he's doing. But it's too late. He saw. For a moment, the two boys stare at each other. A million different emotions cross Niall's face in the span of a second, but then, mischief settles there, and he snatches Harry's phone from his grasp, presses Louis's name, and hands it back to him.

"Niall, what are you–" Harry begins frantically, taking note of the bewilderment on Liam's and Zayn's faces. His words are cut short, however, by a raspy, slightly high murmur.

"Hiya, Haz," Louis says into Harry's ear, and Harry tightens his grip on the cell. "Is everything alright?"

Of course. Of course Louis answered. It's not like it's one 'o clock in the bloody morning, and he'd usually be asleep by now. Guilt briefly overtakes Harry as he thinks that maybe he interrupted Louis's rest, but he banishes the thought to the back of his mind. He has bigger problems. 

"Hi, Louis," Harry answers.

Like the fact that he just came out to his friends.

Liam and Zayn look confused for a bit, then taken aback. Finally, understanding finds it's way to their features, and Harry knows that they know. And, judging by the ease of their postures and the light in their eyes, his friends aren't disgusted. Not that Harry thought they would be, but, you know, there's always that possibility. 

"Is everything alright?" Louis asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's..." Harry pauses to wave off Niall's request that he put Louis on speaker. "Everything's fine. I just," he looks at Liam, who gives him a thumbs-up, and Zayn, who shoots him a kind smile, "I need to tell you something."

"Okay," Louis answers. "What's up."

Harry takes a deep breath, then another. He wouldn't be surprised if he faints for the second time today, right here, right now, because his nerves have skyrocketed, and his heart is beating so fast it ought to be a health hazard. This is really happening. I'm about to do this. He can't help but feel a little giddy, despite the daunting situation.

"What do I say?" Harry mouths desperately. His friends shrug, and he internally groans before refocusing on his phonecall. "Louis, uh, darling," Harry winces. At the rate he's going, Louis will hang up before he even gets to his point. Across from him, Niall snickers, and Zayn covers his mouth with his hand. "You're my best friend, y-you know that, right?"

Harry doesn't want to lose Louis, he really doesn't. If this ends their relationship, well, he doesn't know what he'll do, frankly. The boy means so much to him, infatuation aside. Louis is one of the few people that understands his problems. He gives the best advice, no matter the situation, and although he can be serious when needed, he also knows how to make Harry laugh and laugh hard. His jokes have the best punch lines, but his sentiments have the most heart, and nothing, not even the prospect of dating him, is worth losing that.

"Yeah, of course, Hazzie."

"And," Harry continues, willing himself not to stutter. He can barely focus of the other people in the room, he's so petrified of screwing up. "Nothing could ever change that, right?"

"No, of course not...Harry, are you sure everything's alright?" Louis asks. Harry hears muffling on the other end of the line and guesses Louis is now sitting upright in bed.

"Yes, yes," Harry rushes. "It's just...there's a few things you don't know of."

Niall looks at him quizzically, and Harry flashes him an I'm-just-as-lost-as-you-are look before pressing his phone's screen against his cheek.

"Like what?" Louis challenges, amusement woven into his words. "What do I not know of? I'm pretty sure I know everything about you."

Far from it, Harry wants to say, but instead, he coughs quietly and continues. "I...do you know why I borrow your hoodies so often?" He blurts, and immediately regrets it. Liam's astonishment is enough proof to the green-eyed boy that saying that wasn't the best move. 

But all Louis responds with is, "My hoodies? Huh?"

Harry wants to back out, to say that this was all a prank call gone wrong and he's sorry for disturbing him, but he can't. He has fight in him, something he's not entirely used to, but he's not about to let the feeling go.

"Remember when you slept over at my house last month?" Louis affirms his statement with a small "yeah." "Well, you left your shirt at my house and...and I'm using it as a pillowcase."

Niall snorts, while Liam and Zayn clap their hands over their mouths to stop from cracking up. They think I'm joking, Harry thinks. But he's never been more serious about anything in his whole life. 

"I...oh," Louis says softly, and Harry might be imagining it, but he swears he hears him smile through the phone. "Why?" He pauses. Then, in a shaky voice, utters,"Harry, I'm really confused. Do you...um...d'ya want me to come over so we can talk in person? I just, you're worrying me and It's like one in the morning and you're not one to call this late to–"

Harry's trying to listen to Louis's words, he really is, but with every second that goes by, he can feel his impatience growing stronger and stronger. Suddenly, he can't take it another second.

"I wanna ruin our friendship!" The lanky boy interrupts rather loudly. You could hear a pin drop as Harry's friend's mouths form "O" shapes. Stupid. That was the dumbest thing you could have said.

Louis doesn't speak for a beat. Then, more scared then Harry has ever heard him, says, "What are you talking about? W-why don't you want to be friends anymore?" His words become more frantic with every syllable. "Hazza, I adore you. I...I want to be around you. What, um, what did I do? I can fix it. Just tell me and I'll fix it, Haz, I just...please. I don't want to lose you."

Harry feels awful. Here Louis is, almost crying because Harry can't form a coherent sentence. He knows it's now or never. He can't continue to lead Louis astray, not when there's so much at stake. Harry takes a mental picture of this moment, possibly the last before he and Louis become mortal enemies because he can't control his emotions. Finally, he sighs and bites the inside of his cheek.

Here goes nothing.

"Lou, I don't want to be friends because I want to be more," Harry rushes. He's talking fast, so, so fast, but he can't stop. He feels like he's been running all this time, and now, at last, he can spot the finish line. "Lovers. We should be lovers instead. I, um...together. I want us to be together."

Silence. Both in the room and on the other end of the line. No one talks for the longest time, and for a moment, Harry is certain Louis is going to hang up, that this whole thing was a giant prank meant to expose him, and maybe his friends aren't actually his friends and just want to humiliate him and the dump his sorry self. He wouldn't blame them, honestly. He's so awkward and shy and different. Anyone who can get Gigi Hadid or Amelia Woolley or Maya Henry to like him shouldn't be friends with someone like Harry, they just shouldn't. He's about to lose everything, the pessemistic voice at the back of his head tells him. He's going to lose everyone and then he'll be even more lonely than he already is, and–

"Where are you right now?" Louis asks, interrupting Harry's train of thought. There's a certain urgency in his crush's tone that Harry finds way too endeaing. 

"I'm at Niall's place," Harry says. There are questions in Liam's, Niall's, and Zayn's eyes, but he can't answer them right now, not when his life is practically on the line. 

"I'm coming over," Louis says, and with that, the line goes dead.

Harry is in shock for a moment. What just happened? What has he done? He's never going to drink again, that's for sure. But there's also this hint of satisfaction in his heart. I did it, Harry thinks. I came out. I told Louis how I feel. I did it. 

What happens now, happens. At least now Louis knows why Harry blushes at the mention of his name, and why he takes every possible opportunity to talk to him but inevitably ends up a stuttering mess, and why when Louis helped him up this morning, he held on to his hand a fraction of a second more than he should have.

He's in love.

"Well?" Niall asks. "What did he say?"

"He...he's coming over," Harry answers, and dammit, he thinks he's going to cry. Like, actually cry, because it's over and it happened and he doesn't know what's going on now. He can't help it, really. Once one tear slips past his cheek, it's over.

"Oh, Harry..." Liam soothes, coaxing Harry into a hug. "It's okay. You were amazing. You're fine."

"Yeah, Har, that was awesome. You're brave, mate," Niall adds, wiggling himself into the embrace.

"We're proud of you no matter what, Harry. We love you," Zayn says, joining the hug. For the longest time, they just sit there in each other's arms, and Harry wonders what he did to deserve friends like these.

* * *

The house's atmosphere does a full one-eighty when the doorbell rings. Niall lets out a yell, then joins Zayn and Liam in urging Harry to open the door. It's as if the boys don't hang out with Louis every day, and despite his shaky breath and quivering lip, Harry has to laugh. Before his friends can follow him, Harry bolts down the stairs, grasps the door handle, and opens the door.

And there's Louis, standing a mere three feet away from him, holding a single red rose.

"I, um..." Louis shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I would've gotten a bouquet but the store's closed. This is from the vase at my house." He holds out the flower, and Harry takes it with a small, shocked smile.

"T-thank you," Harry says, stepping outside. It's a good thing it's May, otherwise they'd be freezing. "So, why did you want to talk to me?"

Louis, despite everything, laughs.

"Did you and I have the same phone call?" He asks, gaze flitting to Harry's lower body, then back up to his face when he realizes what he was doing, cheeks flushed. "I think you know why I want to talk."

Harry doesn't think he's ever been more scared in his entire life.

"Oh. Oh, god, I...Lou, I'm so, so sorry," Harry says, shaking his head. "That must have been so awkward. Look, if you just want to pretend it never happened so we can salvage out friendship, we can do that, because I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. You mean so much to me, Lou, I just...I couldn't help falling in love with you. You're just so perfect, I– sorry. I know we're never gonna be the same again, but maybe–"

"Harry!" Louis cuts in. The curly boy goes quiet. "I like you too."

Harry blinks once, then twice. No, he did not just hear that. It's a illusion, a cruel trick of the mind. There's no way on Earth that Louis Tomlinson just admitted to reciprocating his feelings. No way. No fucking way.

"I...what?" Harry squeaks.

"I said," Louis offers softly, moving towards Harry. He rises to his tip-toes and presses a gentle kiss to Harry's cheek. "I like you, too."

Saying Harry's about to combust would be an understatement. He's waiting for someone to pinch him and say all of this is a dream, really, because how could it be real? How could he, Harry Styles, who has to work for everything that he wants in life, have this happen to him? How could he be this lucky?

And why does Louis look so fucking good right now? With the moon alight in his eyes and his hair swept out of his face, the shorter boy looks almost godly. No, scratch that, Harry thinks. He is an angel, an actual, real life angel. 

But Harry's luck had to end at some point, and unfortunately, it happens when he opens his mouth and actually, genuinely, seriously says the words, "thank you."

He feels like slapping himself, truly. Could he be any more awkward? Here was his crush telling him he liked him too, and Harry just had to go and make it difficult for himself. Way to go, genuis. 

Louis doesn't seem to mind, though. In fact, his gaze softens and his lips curl into a smile. His voice is like a song when he whispers, "no, thank you," and pulls Harry into a hug.

They've hugged a million times before, but this one's different because there's a completely different intention behind it. Whereas the others were symbols of friendship, this one is a sign of more. Harry doesn't know what they are, but he knows that they're not just friends anymore. And that's enough for him to hold on to Louis as tightly as he can and rest his chin on the dip of his shoulder, never wanting to let go.

When they pull away, both boys are smiling. "I really want to kiss you right now," Louis whispers, and Harry's mind becomes a jumbled mess of yes, yes, yes. "But it's almost three in the morning, and I don't want out first kiss to happen when we're both half asleep and it could very well be a dream. So I'm not going to kiss you. But," Louis continues with a mocking sternness that Harry just has to admire, "be prepared, Styles. Because you never know when I'm going to grab you in the hallway and snog you senseless."

With that, Louis reaches for and squeezes Harry's hand, then disappears down the walkway into his car, leaving a dazed Harry Styles in his wake. It takes minutes for the green-eyed boy to stop watching his crush's black Chevy drive around the corner and head inside. When he does, he noticed three pairs of prying eyes peeking through a window adjacent to the front porch.

"Enjoying the view, boys?" Harry asks because he's giddy with excitement and nothing, not even his friends' nosiness, can ruin his mood. 

"That was epic!" Niall exclaims because of course he does. "You were...and he was...oh man! That was like a movie."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you enjoyed your front row seats," Harry retorts, but he ends up laughing with Liam, Zayn, and Niall because he doesn't know how else to process the best night of his life. 

* * *

The next day, Harry wakes up to sunrays brightening the guest room. For a minute, he wonders if he imagined everything that happened last night, but his suspicions fade when he sees the texts Louis left him right after he dozed off.

I wasn't joking, by the way. I really will grab you in the hallway and start making out with you for everyone to see. Be afraid. Be very afraid

Then, a minute later, Not that I'm going to kiss you without consent. I'm not that type of guy. Just, you know. It's coming.

Lastly, he sent five words that make Harry's heart leap in his chest: I really like you, Haz.

And, as the rest of the boys are waking up, Harry thinks that maybe he'll be the one to catch Louis off-guard. Nah, I'll let him have this one. Or maybe I won't. Who knows? He's so delusional with joy that he laughs, actually laughs at the voice inside his head.

He's just so thrilled, is the thing. And if he spends the rest of the day imagining his and Louis's first kiss, then, well, sue him. 

He can't wait for the real thing.

**Author's Note:**

> How do you italicize things? I'm dying here! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!


End file.
